


Glimpses of Spring

by lunaseemoony



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Post-Episode: s01e03 The Unquiet Dead, Romance, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor’s first dream after meeting Rose is a vivid one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glimpses of Spring

He watches her saunter off in that dress (still not quite period, he doesn’t care) to her room, savors the heat welling up in his frost-chilled cheeks while unabashedly drinking in the sight of her swaying hips and deliciously bare shoulders. Oh he’s been looking. Looking, mind. Not thinking, not past the task at hand or the ever-present reminder of her youth. She saw him looking, _knows_  that he was looking, and she still beamed up at him. 

It fuels his dreams that night. Dreams! Him! It had become all but a foreign concept lately. He was having dreams, proper ones rather than the tempestuous nightmares that infested his mind when he dared to catch a wink or two. Her smile is the sun peaking through the fog, shining brightly and melting away clouds darkness little bits at a time. The calm after the storm. He sees her eyes first not long after closing his own. They’re so warm and bright, glistening like beads of dew on spring grass. Spring! That’s what she was. He can almost smell the flowers blossoming around bare feet. Lilies, not roses. Bright, vibrant, freckly flowers swaying in the breeze like her hips. He chases her, she giggles and fills his chest with warmth. 

She runs too fast, right into a wall of fire. He screams after her as he catches up. She merely smiles at him calmly, takes his hand, and guides him through it. Despite his protesting she walks him through it, mumbling unintelligible words of encouragement as she squeezes his hand tighter. She offers him strength from the fire in her eyes. A different sort of fire, one that he _wants_  to be overwhelmed by. 

He wants to get closer, to touch it, to let his fingers dance along her temples. He remembers her lips, full and pink; how he wants to capture them and turn them red as the fire around them gives way to calm. Even in his dreams she’s intoxicating, bringing life to long since dormant thoughts. Her sweet smile turns salacious and he can see her legs wanting to dart off again. No more games. He can’t hope to ever tame her, doesn’t want to. She’s wild and it makes his weary hearts race. But in this dream all it takes is one look. He backs her into a tree and her tongue peeks between her teeth. He’s torn. In a dream he should have all the time to do everything but just in case, he only briefly seeks permission with pleading eyes before capturing her face in his hands. Her sweet smile returns to melt away a moment of hesitation. Their hearts’ song surrounds them as he presses his forehead to hers and brings his thumbs to her temples. 

He wakes up gulping down breaths, utterly disregarding his respiratory bypass to languish in sheets sticking to his clammy skin and dizziness overtaking him after he looks himself over when sitting up. His hearts are stampeding after their siren as she fades away to wakefulness. She’s still there, grinning at him from ear to ear as he makes his way into the console room. Her excitement nearly takes him back there. He sucks in a deep breath and shuts his eyes. When he takes her hand, wrapping it in his as her warmth did his dreams he knows. Principles or not, he was gone right then and there, didn’t want to return as long as her hand was in his. 


End file.
